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Lima Gamit

Baguio City.

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It’s raining, so that means it’s time for blogging. That, and iMessage has decided to be a pain in the ass and stop working. I mean, it might be all my technology trying to be nice to everyone back home, since me texting you now means me texting you at seven am, and really, who is up now? Or else, maybe it’s trying to be nice to the interwebs and give you another blog from me.

…which in case you didn’t notice, isn’t even totally necessary because GoldDust exists!

But since the rain and the douchebaggery technology, here are five things I’ve learned since being in the Philippines.

1. The Boo knows more Tagalog than I probably ever will.

The title of this blog is roughly “five things” in Zambale, according to my mom. I asked her to spell it out for me, and Boo just started counting. He can get up to at least twelve. I can say “thank you.”

2. The day is twelve hours. Exactly. Or almost.

Sun rises at 6 am. Sun sets at 6 pm. My sleep schedule is all sorts of weird.

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3. Vacation hair.

Totally forgot to bring shampoo and conditioner. If you remember my post about my awesome packing skills, this isn’t surprising. However, the intense heat plus lack of conditioner plus hair being up in a ponytail/bun/braid all day equals me looking like this:

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4. I’m totally kidding. It just looks like this:

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5. A learning lesson for you:

“Salamat” means thank you. And now you know about as much Tagalog as me.

And we’ll all float on, alright?

So, something you may or may not have learned about me over the past year or two I’ve been blogging is that I’m the keeper of a fabulous bucket listI’ve been keeping a bucket list for years and years now, since the 1990’s of my childhood. And now that I’m getting older, I get to cross more and more things off of the list.

Ride a zamboni? Check.

Be on the big screen at a sports event? Check.

Dance on a bar, albeit in a somewhat less talented fashion that the girls in Coyote Ugly?

Oh, that’s a big fat “check because I danced on a bar with my BFF and a Greek Man”

You can thus imagine how exciting it is when I get to cross another adventure of the list.

Today’s adventure in L.A. land? Tubing. To be correct, a floatdown.

You may remember a movie from back in the day. Before Britney Spears shaved her head and attacked things with umbrellas. When Sabrina was a teenage witch with a talking cat who told us to be damn grateful that it was Friday.

Somewhere in the realms of this movie is a part where all the cool kids in high school (which we’ve already acknowledged that I really wasn’t, break my heart) get  together in similar bathing suits and float on a river.

Here they are. Chilling on a river.

And just like that, it was on my bucket list. So when BabyDaddy pitched going to the Port Huron Float Down this past weekend, all I thought was:

Check.

Things I learned from the Port Huron Float Down this weekend:

1. Floats= Big deal of the float down. Surprise!

BabyDaddy and I went on a “float finding quest” the day before the floatdown happened. End of summer, trying to find big pool toys? Very, very hard. GoldDust had discovered a discount toy store a few days before and would spend the day on a giant sea shell which I swear was actually a giant blow up vagina. It kept that nickname the whole trip.

I, meanwhile, luckily stumbled upon a giant turtle, which when blown up, resembled more of a baby dinosaur.Either way, I learned that giant pool toys are not the most durable. The floats all get tied together, so…

The epic tale and fail of the giant turtle float.

2. You’re gonna lose shit…

Brought a pair of Coach sunglasses. Leaned back or something at some point, and off they went. Gone forever. Not quite sure exactly how they went missing.

3. …So bring extra…

GoldDust and I came prepared with drink, but somehow neglected to bring cups. We thus ended up borrowing them from some other people floating with us.

Balancing on a float while not spilling booze and not falling in? This takes skill. There is a direct correlation to the amount of skill you have at keeping your cup upright to the amount of liquid that’s gone from the cup into your system. Thus…

That’s right. My second cup. I remember breaking the first one, when I fell in the water and tried to keep the cup out of the Lake. I did, but my grip of steel broke poor red solo.

4. …don’t bring too much extra…

See comment about straight vodka.

And thus, another item gets checked off the bucket list. Has anyone else gotten to check anything off their list lately?

 

 

Bikini Season: codename, self conscious females arise

Yesterday marked the beginning of outdoor soccer. Which should be a great thing, right? It means being outside in the sun, getting tan while you run, playing for longer…all good things, yes? Well, outdoor soccer yesterday taught me one thing yesterday:

This speaks for itself.

Before anyone starts giving me grief, I know I am thin. But there is a big difference between being thin and being in shape. And I admit it:

I am so out of shape.

It’s funny. I’ve been pretty active my whole life. I’ve been long distance biking since I was 11. Playing soccer since 6th grade.  Just constantly moving. But the older I get, the harder it is to make time for it, and now all of sudden…I have podge. And I hates the podge. Because you know what comes along with outdoor soccer?

Summer. Namely, bikini season.

I downright refuse to get to the point where I can’t wear a bikini and be okay with myself. And I’m scared I’m getting to the point where I can’t. Sure, it might just be me being self conscious about my body image, but honestly, who isn’t self conscious about at least some part of their body?

My infamous “Flamingo Pose” Left is pre baby. Center and right are post baby. Damn the fact that you can’t stay young forever.

I want to say that I’m going to go get the latest issue of Cosmo, where they’re sure to have some sort of “Get Better Abs in Two Weeks” sort of feature. I’ll cut out the article, stick it to my fridge, and diligently work out until my abs are in better shape, my body is in better shape, and most of all, I feel better about how I look.

But let’s face facts. That’s a lie.

I’m terrible at working out. Aviator and I had this discussion when we went to the gym a couple times. Working out is harder on your own. Why? Because no one is holding you accountable. No one is going to come up to you and tell you that you have to do this next set of crunches, or run for another mile, or whatnot.

That’s why soccer is good for me, even if I suck, even if I get tired, both of which usually happen — someone is holding me accountable. From time to time, that someone is yelling at me, but hell, at least I’m doing something active.

The same story is true for long distance biking. My family has gone on the Michigander bike tour for the past two years — this will be our third year this summer. You know what happens if you decide you can’t bike anymore? You’re stuck. Possibly in the middle of nowhere. Possibly with nothing to eat or drink but half a water bottle and some salt and vinegar peanuts (this actually happened to me once). You absolutely have to keep going until you reach your destination, or else you’re screwed*. That’ll hold you accountable.

My Dad and I on the Michigander last year. Photo Courtesy to MichTrails on PhotoBucket.

So, now…it’s bikini season.What keeps you working out? Workout buddy? Body Image? Someone come hold me accountable, so I can head to Grand Haven feeling good.


*Just an FYI. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t get screwed and left in the middle of nowhere on the Michigander. I think the SAG Wagons would pick you up.  But normally on a bike trip on your own? Seriously. Screwed.